


Jangle your Jewels

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clubbing, Crossdressing, Genderbending, Intersex, M/M, Other, Outdoor Sex, Watersports, very mild watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:26:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: Crossdressing... with a twist."We decided if we're a couple of hot-arsed young blokes, wouldn't we be totally fit birds?"





	1. When You're Ready There

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the end result of working on some unfilled Christmas 2017 kink prompts from another site. While I doubt that whoever suggested genderbent had this in mind, it's how it, uh, went down. 
> 
> Additional tags will be added as needed for later chapters. Read and heed them.
> 
> This offering is not meant to suggest anything about the RL people I'm borrowing, not their bodies nor proclivities, nothing! This is for entertainment purposes and it's fiction. Also, no insult intended to them nor real intersexed people. I'm aware that true hermaphrodites with fully formed and functioning male and female parts are incredibly rare if not non-existent. Even with these two, it's not quite 100 percent. It's mainly hinted at in Ch. 1, with more detail later. 
> 
> You may wonder throughout if they're supposed to be drag queens, or passing as women, or just playing dress-up. Not sure myself! Roll with it.
> 
> Assume that Sav and Steve have lived their lives as men / males up till the point of the story, besides whatever they mention themselves. 
> 
> Don't forget... 80's fashion! This is the standard to which they're conforming (or not). 
> 
> Beta and review by ChristianHowe. Any remaining errors are mine.

-1988 

Sav had opened his door that evening to a lean, blond, long-haired, clean-shaven young man of respectable height wearing faded jeans and a tee shirt. He wasn't so different, himself. And now... two bony blonde, towering, young almost-ladies getting dressed to go out clubbing stared back at them in his oversized bathroom mirror. 

"Look at us... We are fucking gorgeous!" Steve proclaimed. He ran his fingers up the reinforced sides of his gold lamé bustier, admiring the lift of his AAA-cups. Over it, the cut-off white jacket he never buttoned was perfect.

"Think we can pull this off?" Sav wondered aloud, still shirtless, as he applied more highlighter below his left eyebrow. He held the brush like an artist, and maybe he was, judging by the shaded canvasses between his lids and brows. 

Steve shot Sav an incredulous look, then picked up a tweezers to yank a stray hair from between his eyebrows. Under the row of naked, clear light bulbs, his hair gleamed, a gold-blond river framing his angular face then flowing down past his shoulders. "What do you mean? We're smoking hot!" 

"Beautiful," sighed Sav. It wasn't ego speaking, but rather, admiration of the emerging picture of their alternate selves. Instead of the usual downward-hanging mass of curls, his hair was teased and sprayed straight up in front at least three inches, just like any good barfly's or groupie's.

"I'd fuck us." Steve said it straight-faced, then grinned widely. If he was referring to actual females that looked similar, no doubt he'd try to pull. He would if they themselves were girls, he would if they were boys. It was almost redundant. 

"Whore!" 

"Slut." 

"No, that's Phil." 

Steve snorted. "Only if it involves anal, and not his--" 

"Remind me," Sav cut him off and changed the subject, asking in an attempt to assuage his nerves, though he knew the answer, "why'd we do this again?"

"'Cuz..." Steve's voice dropped to a whisper. He stepped closer to Sav so their painted faces were also closer together in the reflection. "We decided if we're a couple of hot-arsed young blokes, wouldn't we be totally fit birds?" How that conversation had evolved, neither of them remembered the exact details. There had been a steady supply of one-upmanship and vodka, then one of them had dug some lingerie from fans who'd left them souvenirs from the depths of a suitcase and that was it. However good their imaginations, a slender man trying on a brassiere with DD-cups wasn't exactly hot, and no woman had legs that hairy. Some work - and special order - would be needed. They'd agreed to keep their main clothing purchases secret till tonight and perform the necessary grooming, other than hair and make-up, on their own.

"Birds, or something that passes, but yeah fit something or other." The face of the person speaking possessed a delicate nose, big eyes, and lips made for any number of sins. There was no trace of stubble, the only give-away was perhaps too defined a jaw. 

"Shut the fuck up, Sav... look at you. I might as well be a fucking goat in a dress next to you."

"No, you're very pretty, in kind of an androgynous way. Those legs are three miles long. You don't usually see girls that are so ripped but it's sexy. Your abs, your cute little navel showing..." 

Steve radiated how pleased he was. He stopped himself from ducking his head, always shy and untrusting of compliments but willing to believe them from Sav. "Oh yeah? Well, you said you wanted to know if you were even more attracted to me like this. Are you, then?" 

It was stupid, Sav thought, how Steve thought so little of himself. Humble was one thing but... their stylists had transformed the guitarist into the epitome of rock'n'roll sex god before this tour and he oughta know it. Right now he was concerned about how their experiment had turned out, which made it an opportune time to for Sav to roll him in praise. 

"Dunno about 'more'. Just in a different way. Honestly? I had my doubts whether you could get, um, girlie enough. Some make-up, the right clothes, damn! Either way, fuck yeah, gonna jizz me knickers." Already Sav was getting breathless. And hard. 

"That'd be slutty as hell, better wait till later."

His hand with several silver rings steady, Sav applied more lip gloss, then handed the little tube over to Steve, who took it and ran the spongy tip across his lower lip, then the upper. Bending forward, the guitarist stuck his face two inches from the mirror and rubbed his lips, now shiny and darker pink, together. Some thought distracted him. "Something's different about you." 

"No shit." 

Huffing, Steve turned his head to peruse Sav's look up and down. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "How long did it take you to shave your legs?" 

"Two hours, more or less. I went all the way up." Sav yanked impatiently at the hem of his black leather miniskirt. If it was any shorter, they might as well call it a halter top because his balls were going to show.

"All the way up to what?" Steve's white denim skirt's hem fell halfway to his knees. Unfashionably low-waisted, straight out of the '60's, it showed off his pale, exfoliated midriff and sharp iliac crests to perfection. He pointed to the top of his thigh, then the waistband of his own skirt, then his navel. 

"Like I said, all the way." When Steve still didn't get it, Sav thrust both arms straight up into the air. His armpits were as hairless as his legs. "Duh!" 

"Oh..." the guitarist blinked. "I never thought about that." 

"Clearly."

"Maybe I should..." 

"Not unless you brought your own razor. Just keep your jacket on."

"Cheeky!" Steve brandished a tube of mascara. "Your eye shadow's sparkly," he commented while applying black thickener with the little curved brush.

It had the desired effect. "Your eyelashes... Stevie..." Sav's voice came out strangled. Even with no mascara or dusting of powder, anything, Steve's lashes were as long as a newborn calf's. Now fan-like and lush, he lowered them, coy as any Victorian debutante.

"Aye. 'Stevie', huh? So who are you? 'Baldy'?"

"No, stupid! That's not a name." 

"Then you come up with a better one." 

Sav only shrugged. 

"I know. 'Rickie'."

"What, like Ricki Lake? Thank you so much."

"Don't be like that, we gotta call you something. Like 'Savvy' better?"

Sav shook his head to that. "Fine. Rickie, but only when we go out. You think any real birds will try to pull us like this?" It was more hypothetical than anything. He doubted that anyone, male or female, would approach them other than to harass them or should they be recognised, ask for autographs. If that happened, they'd be in so much deep shit.

"Maybe if we told 'em we'd just been at a costume party...?"

"Some party!" Sav retorted. "Not to be a bitch but no one's gonna be as pretty as us. Doesn't matter anyway, if we got each other. We could always do a little girl-on-girl later."

"Or now," Steve raised his neatly-plucked eyebrows like he always did when he was keen on something. "My, um... my clit is throbbing for you..." He turned to Sav again, moved in and rubbed up against his bum.

"Is that what that is...? I dunno. Being we're both squirters, we should save it till later. That's what you said before..."

"If you insist," Steve sighed, stepping away. The lump under his skirt wouldn't go down any time soon. Probably, Sav mused, he was going to have to smudge his lip gloss before they ever left the flat. Once Steve was up, there was no melting it short of a kick in the nuts.

"There's a few more little details to finish... we can't have Adam's apples." Quite obviously they did; they'd need to be covered. "Scarves or chokers?"

Squinting speculatively, Steve shrugged, "You can carry off the tight thing better." Rifling through Sav's jewelry collection, he came up with a black velvet choker. "Here."

Meanwhile, Sav put on a black clasp-front bra. Like Steve, he chose an underwire with no padding, which pushed and accentuated what tiny tits nature had given him. He dropped a purple silk tank top over that, and a short black jacket with rows of fake diamonds riveted across the shoulders. To Steve's amusement, he replaced his usual hoops with long rhinestone-drop earrings in each ear, the dangling strands nearly touching his shoulders. "Don't look at me that way. Do it right or not at all."

Steve swallowed hard and moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue. "Yeah, you did it right. Looking at you like this, I wanna throw you down and eat that pussy, and you know how I feel about that, Rickie."

"That I do. I'm honoured." Sav was tugging at his hem again. "Did you find a scarf or something?" 

"Fuck it. No one's gonna ever believe I'm anything but a bloke in drag." Never the less, Steve had found a long, thin red scarf. He wound it once around his neck and let both ends dangle in front.

"So? We're not expecting to fool anyone, are we? Not really. 'S just for fun." Looking at them like this, Sav knew who he was of course, but from one second to the next, angle to angle depending on how they stood or turned, he could honestly say his perception was that they weren't women, weren't men, and were both. 

"Probably get the shite kicked out of us." 

"We'll beat them off with our purses and high-heeled shoes." 

Steve's glower was all mockery of the jealous kind, which he was not. "You're not beating anyone off except yourself or me. But speaking of... you don't have a pair of size 10 stilettos, do you?" 

The fact that he did made Sav blush. Only one pair, though. "Those things are murder on feet. Let's wear our boots with studded belts wrapped around them. Birds do that, too." 

"We're ready then?"

"Well..." Ready in more than one sense. Sav cut a baleful eye at the front of Steve's skirt. No one would think _that_ was anything but what it was. "Maybe take care of you first?" 

"If you're offering. But don't make me wait another hour while you fix your make-up."

"You're gonna need a few minutes to catch your breath, anyway." 

"Oh yeah? Well, so will you cuz..." Steve's hand was up Sav's skirt, finding what black leather hid only marginally better than white denim. "Oh my god, Sav... what are you...?" 

"It had to be authentic!" Sav squeaked, pitch going almost as high as a woman's as Steve stroked him through silk knickers. He hadn't been kidding about them. 

Tossing his long, fine hair, Steve snorted, "We're not getting out of this flat tonight, are we?" 

"Yeah we are! Stop!" Fingers prodded and fondled Sav, moving things around. Skirt riding up, Steve plastered himself to the side of Sav's thigh, hips in motion, riding, humping. "Okay! Blow jobs, then we go!" Sav capitulated. Trying to reach Steve's crotch, he wheezed, "What've you got on under there?" 

"Jock strap."

"Your bare arse is just... flapping in the breeze?!"

"Me arse does not flap." Then Steve eyed Sav nervously. "Does it, mate?"

An incredulous snort emoted from Sav. "Fuck no. We all got nice backsides but yours... never seen one so tiny and so round at the same time."

"Aw, such nice things you say, Rickie..." Steve ran his tongue along Sav's collarbone from where it was accessible beside the strap of his tank top, in to the centre dip, and up the side of his neck. 

Breathing harder through parted, painted lips, Sav managed, "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." Steve had him all riled up. He was almost dancing in place already, pelvis grinding and feet walking apart, forget whatever club would let them in. "Fuck, Stevie, stop stroking my dick or I'll....I'm gonna..."

"Do it. Shoot it... right... there..." At first, Sav thought he meant, on the floor. Make that the wall. Then Steve dropped to his knees. After briefly pointing at his mouth, he put it to use. Lips tucked under his teeth, he slurped down half of Sav's length, pulled back, gulped in a breath and slid all the way down. Pelvis jerking forward to shove into the depths of the hot suction, Sav dropped his head back and wailed. 

Steve kept his balls trapped in the silk and he wouldn't stop playing with them through it even as they pulled up and hardened and his mouth was flooded, his tonsils blasted by the sheer force. As he wasn't leaning against anything, Sav's knees trembled and gave out; Steve caught him on the descent, not breaking the seal of his lips till the spasming boy-girl rested safely on the floor. 

"Jesus bloody wanking fuck...! " Sav's cursing was always hell-worthy. "If you sucked any harder, I'd be a eunuch 'cuz my 'nads would be in your belly."

"Complaining?" Steve smirked, wiping his mouth with his hand. 

Yes or no undefined, the answer indicated satisfaction. "Hike up your skirt, Stevie. Let's get you off so maybe we can have a night out without popping wood..."

"Unlikely." 

"...for an hour or so." Sav got himself tucked away somehow, and then he turned his attention to the bulge under Steve's skirt. "Take it out for me."

Shaking his head, Steve sat back on his heels and retorted, suddenly shy, "Uh-uh. I have a secret..." 

"I've already seen it." On his hands and knees, Sav crawled so his face hovered above Steve's lap. "Just gonna suck you off, that's all, okay?" He slid both hands up Steve's smooth-shaven thighs pushing the white denim up, coaxing him to rise up enough to get the skirt hiked around his skinny hips. Sav blinked and groaned upon the visual discovery of Steve's choice of pants. He tugged and pulled and finally, between licks and some advanced suction, got the strappy contraption out of the way. "Nice... er... is that a heart shape?" he asked, half-serious. 

"Aye. One of my girlfriends did that once." Steve sounded a bit smug over his accomplishment. "Then there was one who did what she called a landing strip, but that'd look odd on a bloke. Or, y'know..." 

"Mm-hm." Sav had never figured out the trick to sucking, circular breathing, and not drooling. Whatever Steve needed to tell himself, it served them both that Sav's spit ran down behind his balls and the insides of his thighs. "No, Sav," was his only red light, when Sav's fingers wanted to creep under and behind. 

Coming up for a final breath allowed Sav to gasp out the words, "Later then. Gonna go deep, Stevie, so deep." 

"Bass players!" Steve got that in along with a truncated "mmmph!" before he was consumed and sucked dry. He gave as good as his size and reactivity suggested, slick sliding down Sav's open throat. He growled as he shot his pleasure, pushing and spilling till Sav's eyes teared and bugged out but he gamely kept swallowing. 

Lip gloss on his dick, hot breath condensating in his pubes, thighs wet with saliva and his own juices, Steve was a mess but Sav mostly licked it up, the remnants left to air-dry. "Fuck, you give good head." Never one for post-coital cuddling, Steve drew away but not before licking a trace of himself from Sav's chin. 

Excitement to get on with the evening trumped aftershocks. As promised, there was running eyeliner to repair and smeared pink lips to fix. Then teeth to brush, and mouthwash to gargle. Twenty minutes later, they were stomping into their boots and out the door. 

TBC...


	2. When You're Shakin' Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More filthy fun for our favorite 'girls' in a club and an alley.  
> *tags added*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This author doesn't condone unprotected sex in RL. This is hardly RL.

Sav had been right. The bouncers of the first two clubs turned up their noses and refused to let him and Steve in, even when they flashed fat rolls of cash. Ironically, they had been to both establishments before as 'themselves'. Not to be discouraged, they walked on, drawing looks and a couple of catcalls along the busy sidewalk.

Club number three admitted them entrance. From the moment they stepped inside through the beaded curtain, they had the eyes of all who encountered them. In some, a 'does-not-compute' blankness. Others, shock and near-revulsion, to which they tipped up their chins. In most, curiosity, humour, even excitement. 

People started sending them drinks. Then trying to chat them up. To get a better look. To touch. Sav sidled closer to Steve, who likewise turned his body so his back blocked as many close views to the gawkers as possible. If anyone recognised them, they'd be in so much deep shit. Protective of each other, like their own two-man-woman-boy-girl gang, when the press of the crowd clustered in too tight around them to prevent an easy escape, they sidetracked to the dance floor. 

A circle formed around them there, too, of people watching their every move, keeping time with their bodies. Sav's boots had higher heels, making the two of them an even match in height They danced together every night on stage, but as the saying went, this wasn't that. Steve didn't march and spin; he had no guitar to hold on high. Sav didn't mince backwards, and there was no one he cared to point at. They kept their feet down, apart, swaying closer and closer till they collided into a not-very-subtle grind. 

Sav shook his head when he felt something growing hard against his hip. "Not here," he said into Steve's neck, loud enough to be heard over the thumping house mix. 

"Fine, fine," grumbled Steve, who backed off slowly, grateful for even the not-quite-adequate cover of a handbag he'd grabbed at the last second, its long, long strap like his guitars'. It had only been after Sav had slung a black multi-zip pocketbook over his own shoulder and cajoled Steve with a white leather bag that was only big enough to hold his wallet, keys, pack of gum, strip of condoms, tube of mascara and a fold-up hairbrush that he'd reluctantly agreed. 

They broke contact, but even not touching, it felt as though they were still connected. Electricity arced between them, sparked as bright as Sav's earrings or the strobes reflecting off Steve's metallic-highlighted hair, whether they flaunted themselves to each other while face-to-face or in every permutation of front-to-back. Model-thin, angular, long-legged, they embodied male overlaid with overshot female sexuality, melded together hot and wild into unique, dual embodiments. 

A group of five women, two blondes and three brunettes, were dancing nearby, trying to catch their eyes through the smoke and flashing lights. Some females, they already knew, were attracted to androgyny. Why else would they go for men wearing eyeliner, earrings and long hair? 

"What do you think?" Sav questioned with one raised eyebrow, knowing Steve was more than peripherally aware of the mini-flock. Birds of a feather and all that, all five of them could be called fit. Definitely their type. He got a nod. They probably looked ridiculous, swaggering like blokes on the pull dressed as they were. 

The two blondes went for Steve, one in front of him, facing him; the other behind, tall enough that Sav could see her eyes over Steve's shoulder. The other three surrounded him and their legs threaded through his as they all synched. The fair-haired girls touched Steve only politely, no groping or over-zealous pelvic gyrations. The one in front seemed fascinated with Steve's hipbones, but even so, her blood-red lacquered nails stayed to the outsides of the narrow arches above his waistband.

On the other hand, Sav didn't know if it was them or whether he unconsciously invited it, but he was soon being felt up. Several smaller hands slid across his stomach, his hips, up and down his arms, the woman behind him daring to reach a hand around to manually check, it would seem, for a bulge under his miniskirt. They were all over him, the invitations unmistakable: pointed nipples scraping his chest through the thin silk, heat pressed against his bare thighs. Any other time he might have gone for some dirty dancing and whatever else it led to. Now, he just wanted calloused fingertips that knew all his hot spots and what to do with them. 

Steve watched, hooded eyes darting from girl to girl before they alit longer on Sav, patient and impatient at the same time. Sweat gleamed on his face, upper chest and belly; Sav was dying to lick it off. When he noticed that he too was being watched, Steve deliberately felt himself up over the bustier. Showing his teeth when it provoked an involuntary thrust on Sav's part against the woman currently riding his leg, the guitarist jabbed his pelvis once in Sav's direction. The signature move never failed to make half the women at their shows blush and the other half cream their knickers. Sav, too. 

One of the girls finally squealed, "Kiss each other!" from behind Sav's left shoulder. There was a Laura and a Victoria and a Katie; he couldn't remember who was who and he was down by two names. Didn't matter. Steve danced closer and closer, looking like he was up to no good. Then he leaned in, kissed Sav's cheek and laughed. They'd do no more, not here.

Another group was waiting to cut in, three women and a lone man this time. Steve's face registered alarm so Sav kept the guy on his side of the invisible line. After two minutes of watching the bloke hump Sav's leather-clad butt, he required the strategic placement of his handbag once again. After that, it didn't matter so much if they danced with men, women, groups, or whatever, just like no one seemed to care whether they were pretty boys or pretty girls, although without Sav's bolstering presence, there'd have been no way Steve would have let another bloke partner him. Now, dancing was dancing. People kept pushing them back at each other, wanting to see more of the show. Every time, it was a struggle not to just give in and screw each other on the dance floor. The mood of the crowd said they could have got away with it. 

In the next two hours, they burned through as many partners and groups as songs, were panting hard and lathered in sweat, in need of a break. The two of them slithered into an open spot at the bar for fresh drinks and a smoke. Sav had a certain look on his face. Corners of his lips pulling upwards, Steve waited it out. 

It didn't take long. "Stevie... I gotta piss." 

"So... go." 

"You know birds always go together... and it's a long line." 

"No doubt the line to the Gents is much shorter." Steve's inflection said it was the most obvious thing ever, next to the fact that Sav should use it.

"Stevieeeee...!" 

"What? Afraid you're gonna piss your panties?" 

"No!" Sav gave a snort of derision. 

Toying with him, Steve proposed, "Tell you what. Let's drink our drinks and get out of here. There's gotta be some place better. You can piss in the alley." 

"Nasty!" 

"Well, you're a nasty girl, Rickie... If you need a lookout, I can keep watch while you squat to pee." Shoulders shaking, Steve's efforts not to laugh weren't entirely successful.

Giving another snort, Sav pretended to be insulted. "I'm not _that_ kind of girl!"

"Oh yeah? How about I hold it for you then?"

Sav's pupils, already dilated in the low light, blew wide open. He tossed back his drink and stubbed out his smoke in jerky movements. Steve followed suit. Threading through the crowd to the front door and then out, his view of swaying hips and sweetly-curved arse kept his attention, the proverbial magnet to steel.

Once outside, they took a second to acclimate themselves and strode down the nearest alleyway faintly lit by a few bare light bulbs. Boot heels clicking on the pavement, they descended, it seemed, into their own little world with no one else around. They passed back doors and loading docks, the other end only a faint glow between a long row of rundown walls. 

Steve observed his friend's increasingly-strained gait from the corner of his eye. "Quite a dilemma, eh?" he asked conversationally. 

"What is?" Sav had a one-track mind at the moment: finding a wall and sufficient cover. 

"Which loo to use."

"The Ladies', of course. We're birds!" 

"Are we?" Steve asked innocently, followed by, "Most birds don't want anything with a dick anywhere near them when they're doing their business."

"Are you calling us chicks with dicks now?"

"Well, we kind of are, dressed like this." 

"Don't make me laugh! Please!!" whined Sav. 

"Wanna have a go at my pussy?"

Sav let out a loud, strangled gasp. "Don't you dare get me so hard I can't go!" 

"Oh, you poor thing. Like you haven't been working me up all night." Steve turned them both to face the wall. Overhead, the light they'd stopped under flickered a few times and blinked out; night rose and got a stronger hold around them. Sav was scrabbling with the front of his skirt and the knickers underneath; the low, indecent groan of relief as he blasted the brick wall in front of him echoed down the man-made canyon. Steve chose that moment to plaster himself against Sav's back and bum. Wordlessly, he demanded Sav widen his stance, tapping at the inside of his ankle. Sav walked his feet apart as far as he dared while Steve ran his fingers down the bassist's right arm to his hand to assume dick-holding-while-leak-taking duties. 

"Oi! Still pissing here!" Sav mock-protested but let it happen. 

"Hush!" hissed Steve, and went still. The velvety flesh in his hand twitched and swelled as the stream slowed. The scent of fresh urine wafted, along with that dirt, tar, stale booze and something gone slightly over in a nearby dumpster. The air was cool enough to raise goosebumps and keep the smell mostly at a bearable level. 

"Done, Steve." The trickle stopped. Likely 'done' was more like 'can't'. When the hand still didn't move, Sav pointedly cleared his throat. They both shuddered. Steve gave him two quick shakes and began to stroke. Within a minute, he was handling a full-blown erection and the person attached to it was wiggling his arse all over the boner under his own skirt. 

"Hands on the wall, Rickie... I can't do anything right now besides blow a load in my pants." Steve had to let go to take one step back, flip up the front of the white denim jean-skirt, then shimmy what was under it down his long, thin legs, finally flicking the jock away with his foot. "Fuck this thing, always in the way." From the back, he held Sav's knickers aside, found him wet and ready. Such an advantage, when they both wanted it: no need for prep and lube. "Get ready," he growled, closing in. 

"Right, not like this is a footie match... Oh fuck...!" Sav had less than five seconds to mentally prepare for the first plunge. Typical of him, Steve sank in as far as he could go in a move violent enough to scare a real girl-only kind of girl. Not Sav. He opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath to vocalise, but Steve slapped a hand over the wide-open hole. "Keep quiet!" 

Nearby, a pair of alley cats screeched in the night. "What the fuck?!" Steve blurted.

When had Sav ever needed to yowl so bad? He glanced back, effectively ungagging himself. "Guess your secret is out," he giggled, his head lolling back heavy on Steve's shoulder. The same hand stifled his moans when they started in as he was filled to capacity and more. 

It was rough trade. Neither of them held back speed nor force, writhing and twisting to scratch the unnnatural itch. Neither cared about the smacking, squelchy noises that resulted. There was something about fucking this boy-girl-man that riled Steve up so bad. It was sex, and it was something like therapy in that he allowed some of his worst memories out in the form of derisive words. Sav could take it. He encouraged it. Buried inside, pushing so hard he jolted Sav up on his toes, Steve purged: "You little freak. Anomaly. Mutant. Hermaphro nympho cockslut. Are you a boy or a girl?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Sav interrupted breathlessly. "Can be what I want... just like you." Arching his back, he pushed himself down on his ride. 

Steve speared him deeper than before. "Maybe I should put it in your arse, would you like that?" 

"Fucking right I would..." Sav hiccupped, "later, when we're... ourselves." 

"Don't even know what to call you," Steve resumed, his hand pumping in time with the serpentine rhythm of his hips, "with your wet little cunt, can hardly take me, and your hard dick..." Hard, leaking, it surged when Steve mercilessly slid the foreskin up and back, up and back over the flared purple ridge. 

"Fucking right. Don't forget my balls." Those were currently pulled up tight, full and primed. As for Steve's, they'd been drooled on, wet from Sav's juices, swollen but nearly retracted. The force they'd generate any moment was going to make him scream.

"How could I? You're about to jizz like a fire hose... Put you in a side show, peep show, let everyone see. How much do you think I could charge?" He took a deep breath and whispered, "I wouldn't. Not really. Can't get enough. Of you, not ever. Keep you for meself..." Maybe one day, Steve would recover from the effects of his childhood damage. And then what would they do? 

Fucking, wanking, rocking against each other in the rank alley, they knew to be quick or they risked being caught. Sav writhed and clamped down inside, planting one foot against the wall. Though he had to keep both their balance, Steve still managed to wiggle a hand up under Sav's shirt to push his bra up, palm his pecs, tweak his tiny, pebbled nipples; but he had to detour as he felt the expansion of Sav's chest that meant he was about to get loud. Shortly thereafter, Sav screeched into Steve's palm and blasted the wall again, this time in strings of pearl white. Like earlier, and like every time he came hard, his knees buckled; when Steve let go up into the contracting tunnel, it was with Sav hanging off his dick. Nothing made him feel more like a man. Mouth open wide, he clamped lips and teeth around the back of Sav's neck under the tossed mess of sweaty curls and shouted release into his skin. 

"Holy fuck..." Steve let Sav regain his balance, then eased out. "You gush like a motherfucker. I swear I felt it inside," he panted, unguarded enough in the moment to allow awe to come through. 

"Thanks to you, Stevie. What are the odds?" Somehow, they'd been born in the same year, in the same city. They'd found each other totally happenstance. It had taken years to reveal - admit - the mutual attraction and 'bonus features'. "Not done with you yet... There's more to come."

"You're fucking right about that." 

Wiggling his clothes back into place, Sav let out a satisfied sigh. "Needed that... to let you bang me right here," he wrinkled his nose and walked away from the site - and aroma - of his biological fingerprint. "You know what happens when we get home, huh?"

"I seem to recall something about 'so deep'...?" The soft voice possessed an eagerness that went beyond mere lust. The depth of his lover's release hadn't gone unnoticed. Steve, hyper-conscious of the lingering, cooling slick all over his groin and down his thighs, was not yet fully sated.

"Oh fuck yeah..." There was that intake of breath again. Sav had to bend forward slightly and jam the heel of his hand down into his crotch. "Ow. Too soon." 

As comment on multiple points, Steve said simply, "No one knows that better than I do."

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admit it. It turned you on.


End file.
